Interlude
by avrovulcan
Summary: Illya, Napoleon, Rebecca & Lizzie all take a well earned vacation, but things never are smooth sailing! originally written for the Picfic Challenge on LJ. Part of my Illya and Rebecca series.


There was a slight swell to the sea, just perfect for sailing; the sky was blue with just the occasional fluffy cloud lazily floating by, the sun blazed down on the Pursang as she cut through the water.

"Alright there my love?" Napoleon called to the figure lying on the deck at the bow of the ship.

"Yes. This is just glorious. It's so good to be on a boat again." Lizzie Johnson answered as she turned over to look at the handsome American.

Napoleon and Lizzie had been together for the best part of three years, he'd met the UNCLE nurse when he rescued her from her sinking yacht. They hit it off immediately and had never looked back.

They were enjoying the third day of a week's holiday granted them by Waverly.

"Where do you suppose Illya and Rebecca are? I thought we'd have seen them by now," Lizzie asked.

The Russian and his ladylove, Rebecca Andrews, were also on a break and they'd all been spending it together…. In a way.

The sound of an engine could be heard approaching, growing louder as it drew nearer.

"Speak of the devil and he'll appear," Napoleon joked, waving as a seaplane flew very low overhead,

The aircraft waggled its wings in acknowledgement and a few moments later disappeared around the promontory of the island they were all headed for, still several miles away for the boat. A lighthouse perched on top the cliff, it's flashing light just about visible in the darkening sky, offering its own friendly welcome to the sea going couple.

"That seaplane was a brilliant idea of Rebecca's," Lizzie said.

"Mmm, she's a clever one, it was a perfect solution."

The two couples had wanted to spend the time together, Napoleon and Lizzie wanted to go sailing around the Bahamas, Illya and Rebecca liked the idea of exploring the islands, but not by boat.

Illya wasn't keen on cruising, but Rebecca had pulled in a few favours and had come up with the seaplane, the best of both worlds.

It was a largish one, complete with a comfortable sleeping area. It had wheels set into the floats to enable it to be beached and driven up onto higher ground; where they would spend the night… and most of the next morning.

Napoleon and Lizzie would leave after breakfast and head to their next destination; Illya and Rebecca would leave later in the aircraft; being a faster mode of transport than the yacht, they would arrive at their next stopover ahead of the others and check out the area before setting up for the night.

The evening was drawing in by the time the Pursang rounded the protruding spit of land the seaplane had disappeared behind earlier. A faint glow could be seen emanating from the beach, as they sailed closer and found a suitable mooring place, they could see it was covered in candles. The light of the lighthouse briefly lighting up the sky as it swept around the island.

"Oh, how romantic! Whose idea was that?" Lizzie's face was lit up with delight.

Napoleon just smiled as he helped her down into the small dinghy that had been trailing behind the yacht.

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"I wondered why you'd put so many candles in the cargo hold, I guess you and Napoleon came up with this idea."

Rebecca sighed as she settled down next to Illya on the blankets spread out on the sand amongst the burning candles.

Illya grinned, "I am sorry it could not be a surprise for you also, zavetnyy."

"I don't mind, it's still a lovely thought and I know Lizzie will adore it."

"They should be here soon, we should get the fire started so it will be ready for Napoleon to cook on, but first…"

Illya leaned over and kissed Becca with some passion, the scene was so sensual he couldn't resist, eventually, with difficulty he pulled away, it wouldn't be good for them to be caught _in flagrante_.

They watched for the Pursang entering the bay and later helped pull the dinghy up onto the beach and unloaded the rest of the supplies. Twigs and branches were collected and arranged within a ring of stones in the sand and soon a blazing fire was started.

They spent the evening under the stars, watching the fire and candles gradually die down as the night drew on, feeling content after their meal of spit roasted pork and baby potatoes smothered in butter and dried herbs accompanied with salad and warmed French bread (Becca had the idea of wrapping it in several layers of tin foil and resting it on the edge of the fire).

"I think, my love, it is time for bed," Napoleon whispered to Lizzie as she tried to stifle a yawn.

"I think you may be right."

"Yes, sounds like an excellent idea," Illya smiled as he looked at Becca almost asleep in his arms.

The two couples made their way to their respective night time abodes, one gently rocking in the swells, one firmly on land.

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Rebecca awoke first very early the next morning, comfortably nestled within Illya's arms, she had the strange feeling something wasn't quite right. Yawning, she glanced out the window in the side of their aircraft and did a double take.

"Illya, wake up."

"What is the matter?" The Russian yawned.

"The boat, the Pursang, it's gone."

"What? They would not have left this early."

The two dressed quickly and jumped down from the seaplane, and scanning the bay, saw the yacht had slipped its anchor and drifted into the shallower waters, directly behind the aircraft, where it had become stuck, though it was still upright; it was the keel board (which protruded from the bottom of the yacht for added stability), that had wedged into the sand, keeping the boat where it was.

"Illya, I think we have a problem," Napoleon called as he came up on deck. "We need to get her back into deeper waters before the keel board's damaged."

"Will we be able to pull it out with the dinghy?" Lizzie asked as she peered over the railing.

"I do not think so, the engine will not be powerful enough to drag it from the sand," Kuryakin replied.

"So what do you suggest, my friend?" Solo asked.

"What if we dived and dug the sand away?" Becca suggested.

"No, it would be too dangerous so close to the boat, it could move and crush you," Napoleon said.

"I have another idea, what about the plane?" Lizzie queried.

"Yes, we could taxi it out near to the Pursang and tow it out with that, surely it would have the power." Rebecca commented.

"I believe that would work," Illya smiled, jogging to the aircraft and starting it up.

The seaplane was soon taxied into the water and maneuvered near to the boat. Becca swam to the aircraft trailing a rope behind her and attached it to a sturdy point at the rear of the fuselage, the other end was firmly knotted to the stern of the yacht.

"Okay Illya, take up the slack slowly, we don't want to jolt her too much, take it slow and it should slide through the sand."

Kuryakin brought the planes' power up gradually and moved forwards until he could feel the rope take the strain, then edged the throttles forward fractionally, feeling through the controls when the yacht started to move.

With a bit of groaning and the initial shudder, Pursang began to make her way off the sandbank she'd been stuck on, soon she was free and in deeper water.

"I'll just check below and make sure we're not taking on any water," Napoleon said.

Lizzie untied the rope and let it drop into the water, once the seaplane was beached again, it could be removed from the fuselage.

"Remarkably, she seems to be fine, none the worse from her little escapade," The American exclaimed as he emerged from below.

"I believe the anchor hadn't a good grip and she just drifted, can happen sometimes, I'll use the spare as well then she shouldn't go anywhere," Napoleon said.

The sound of the plane's engine increased slightly as Illya drove it up onto the sand and then the beach was suddenly silent as the motor stopped, the only sound was the waves washing up on the shore.

"I knew the plane would come in handy," the Russian grinned, "but never thought it would be for towing a boat."

"Now where were we before this interruption?" Rebecca said to Illya with a gleam in her eye as she made her way towards the aircraft.

"I think your ships come in, my friend," laughed Napoleon as he watched his two friend climb aboard.


End file.
